Elskerbjørn
by NotTooClever
Summary: Lyra and Iorek reunite. Warning, contains bear sex.


Lyra had been eagerly looking forward to visiting Iorek. As fascinating as her discussions with Dr. Relph and her work in the Bodleian library was, she was still susceptible to the occasional itch for adventure outside Oxford. But even more than she craved the thrill of the voyage, Lyra longed to again see her devoted protector and bury herself in his fur once more.

The king eagerly awaited his silver-tongued visitor. He had just returned from a minor campaign with a small band of his panserbjørn soldiers, as there were no large wars to be fought. Still, the Muscovites, Tartars, and even the occasional clan of witches managed to keep them busy enough; requesting the bears' aid in invading or defending against one another in their constant squabbles. And the panserbjørne were happy to pledge their metal to anyone who promised them the spoils of victory. Byrnison's battles were feeling fewer and further between however, he was spending less time in his armor these days. Part of him wished to settle, and mate. Part of him longed for Lyra, to feel her fragile form against him, to hear the hum of her heart.

Neither had much longer to wait. From the ground Iorek could see, and hear, the great zeppelin approaching. From the deck of the ship Lyra spotted her great white companion. He sat beside a mooring post, the only structure in sight since the walls of Raknison's palace crumbled to the sea. The Jordan-funded northbound expedition that Lyra tagged along with came to a complete halt over Svalbard, with nothing but ice for miles in all directions, in order to drop off the little girl into the care of the panserbjørn king. As they docked, the man acting as both the ship's pilot and head of the expidition, instructed Lyra that his crew would return in one week's time to retrieve her and bring her home to Jordan College. Pantalaimon said farewell to his falcon dæmon, and she thanked him profusely, before skipping over the gangway and assuring him she'd be ready to hop back aboard when they made their return trip.

Lyra stepped with anxious excitement onto the ice, shielding her eyes from the bright light reflecting up off of it. The engine of the airship roared as it accelerated onward, leaving Lyra behind in the bleak tundra. As her eyes adjusted to the reflective ground Iorek came into focus and she ran to greet him.

The little girl slammed into him, arms spread wide in an embrace. Lyra's voice disappeared unintelligibly into the thick fur.

A short, deep chuckle shook the bear's belly. "What was that?"

Lyra unburied her face from his pelt enough to say, "Oh Iorek! How we've missed you!" Gleeful tears made her cheeks glisten.

"I am glad to see you too." He said, wrapping a great paw around her tiny figure.

"And we've got so much to tell you!" Pan said, poking himself out of the thick furs Lyra wore.

Lyra and Pantalaimon caught Iorek up on the goings on at Jordan, her studies of the alethiometer, and everything else, each adding details the other had forgotten.

"What about you?" She inquired. "How've things been on Svalbard?"

"Better." Iorek told her of the steady improvements to the climate since the closing of Asriel's main doorway. The panserbjørne were no longer hungry, their sense of stability and normalcy was finally being restored.

As they talked, they walked back to the cave Iorek had carved for them from the ice. It was spacious, a fire pit had been set up centrally to heat the space as well as cook her meals. A manageable fire was already burning, Lyra watched the smoke rise and escape through a hole carved in the ceiling of the cave. In the back of the area several furs lay in a warm and comfortable looking heap. Lyra knew that a bear had little use for extra furs or cooked meat, this was prepared for her.

"Oh thank you Iorek." She flung her arms about his broad neck.

Iorek lay beside the bed of furs so Lyra could sit among them and lean into him. He curled around her protectively, instinctively. They stayed that way, catching up and reminiscing further. Another tear appeared on Lyra's cheek, cleaning a streak through the dirt that smeared her skin, when she spoke of Will Parry, and what became of the subtle knife. Iorek felt pity for the poor child in love, but relief that the instrument was destroyed. His tongue met the tear before it fell from her chin and traced the line it made back up her cheek. Lyra giggled at the texture. He cleaned the poor girl's face, and hands.

Iorek was reminded of the night he mended the knife. He had taken Lyra away from the cave where they built their forge and held her like his cub, cleaning the soot from her scorched palms. He made her feel safe then, and he would never lose that affect on her.

"Iorek?" Lyra whispered when he'd finished cleaning her exposed skin.

"Yes little one?"

She playfully slapped her freshly cleaned palm into his shoulder. "I en't even! Little I mean, Pan's settled now! We're all grown!"

"His belly shook in the same short chuckle as before.

"What I was gonna ask..." She continued smiling, "Was; is there any way I could take a proper bath while I'm here?"

"Come." Was all he said as he lifted her and sat up, placing her in his lap as he had done the night of the forge. With all the delicacy required for the most intricate ironwork, Iorek's opposable claws unfastened Lyra's parka and pulled it over her head.

A gasp escaped the girl and her heart began aflutter as the remaining articles of clothing were stripped from her body, which was involuntarily producing a sweet scent for his senses alone. His tongue began on her back, massaging her shoulders and spine, cleaning the nape of her neck and the small of her back. Lyra was tickled by his muzzle gently nuzzling under her arm to lift it and clean beneath. Another gasp as his tongue grazed the side of her breast. Her scent thickened. He turned her naked form over to bathe her stomach and chest, which rose and fell in rapid breath. His rough tongue rasped over her nipples again and again, and she failed to contain a pleasured sigh. Pantalaimon crawled up the bears back and perched on his shoulder, nuzzling into the fur of his neck, nibbling at his ear. When he began cleaning her thighs, Lyra spread her legs for his muzzle. The smell of her lust was heavy now.

Iorek was mightily conflicted, he was no doubt experiencing human feelings because of this human behavior. Above all he wished to protect the girl and keep her safe, but her scent was overpowering and caused him to salivate. The way she opened her legs in universal invitation was more than tempting, but he felt responsible for her, and she was little more than a child. The king growled deeply as lust won his internal struggle. She tasted even better than she smelled.

The texture of those taste buds, the strength of that tongue, it was too much. Lyra squirmed in his paws, she thought she would never catch her breath again. She panted his name in repetition between spams of her hips. As she shook in his arms his claws poked all over at her bare flesh, but she didn't mind. What normally would have stung, felt oddly pleasurable amidst their passion. She felt as though pain and pleasure were more similar in sensation than she'd previously given them credit for.

The bear stiffened as he played with her petite body, lifting her to his muzzle as though she weighed nothing.

"Oh Iorek... Please. I'm ready." The young girl pleaded with the beast. Iorek gave up trying to withhold his nature. Lyra's eyes shot wide open as she was repositioned and lowered over his hips. She tightened her grip in his pelt to brace herself. Lyra squealed, Iorek growled, and Pan went limp on his shoulder. Lyra looked down at the visible bulge in her pelvis as she was filled and stretched. Had she seen him erect before hand, she may not have been so eager. But the burning she felt from the stretch slowly subsided and was joined by the ecstasy she felt from the beast's rythym.

Lyra swore as her body began spasming again. This was already the tightest grip Iorek had experienced, but when Lyra contracted around him it was too stimulating to hold on any longer. Lyra gasped at the warmth spilling inside her.

Iorek leaned back — careful not to disturb Pan— and Lyra lay flat on his stomach, they both caught their breath. Lyra was unimaginably sore. But with each painful motion of her hips the pleasure echoed inside her and reminded that her it had been worth it.

Iorek resumed bathing Lyra, who now desperately needed it. And when he'd finished they lay together by the fire he built in the cave he carved.

"I think I should like to visit more frequently... Supposing that would be alright with you, and the other bears." Lyra told him.

"Without question. You are Lyra Silvertongue, _Ioreksdøttir!_ And as long as I am King, you are welcome here."

She smiled. Lyra could not imagine a more soothing sensation then that of his claws combing, with infinite delicacy, through her hair and over her scalp. With Iorek holding her close to his heart, and with Pan clutched securely to hers, Lyra fell happily asleep.

**Some definitions if you're interested**

**Panserbjørn(e) - Armored Bear(s)**

**Elsker - Lover**

**Ioreksdøttir - Daughter of Iorek**


End file.
